Reflect
by rubie
Summary: Folken's thoughts as he things about the people around him. Companion fic to Fingers to See, but takes an opposite view.


[Oops... I forgot to load this on ff.net after posting it on the ML about.. hum... some weeks ago...   
  
I'm not dead... really, I'm not ^_^;;   
  
Final.. or hopefully final draft of a story written a looong time ago. The fact that it was hidden for so long kinda shows how much it sucks. Yet another Folken oneshot...]   
  
Standard disclaimers apply.   
  
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**Reflect** by Rubie   
  
  
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Water flows simpily.   
  
A light tap from a low willow branch, or the gentle caress of the wind shapes it, and bends it to their will.   
  
It reflections anything and everything around it, having no face of its own, no heart if its own.   
  
Like us.   
  
Like people.   
  
And people do not see you as who you are. People see you as who you want them to think you are.   
  
It has nothing to do with who you want to be. Or what your true wishes are.   
  
Because people are always hidding themselves behind masks. They do not want people to see, to know, to feel, to understand. We hide our true dreams so that people will not know. Because we cannot accept pain of solitude. We cannot accept the pain of being different. Because we believe that our masks are shields to protect us. Because we are too weak to be hurt without those shields.   
  
So we do not want people to see us as who we are. We want them to see us as someone different, perhaps wiser, happier, or more beautiful. Because we do not trust those people that we are. We believe that we are flawed.   
  
And that is the truth.   
  
We are flawed.   
  
We are liars.   
  
So how are liars wise, happy, or beautiful?   
  
Because we make it so.   
  
Because we paint lies to make them beautiful. We paint our minds to make ourselves wise. And we paint our faces to make ourselves happy.   
  
So then, who are we, truly?   
  
Anyone we want ourselves to be.   
  
Anyone we want others to see.   
  
We are like the river, flowing through the deep valleys of this vibrant country. We are like the waters that carve slowing into the lands of Asturia, eating away at our mother, yet giving nothing in return. Yet we assume the pretense of wise men, generous men, men who only consider the well being of others, but in truth, fondling ourselves.   
  
And it angers me that they do not admit it.   
  
Everybody is selfish. It's our nature. We cling to those few things around us, and desperately grasp for more. It is only natural.   
  
I want my brother to smile again.   
  
I want him to smile at _me_.   
  
I want him to call me Brother without that pain in his heart. Without that hatred in his eyes.   
  
But that is not me. The water does not reflect me as such. It simply stares back with those bloody eyes, cold and uncaring. Then it ripples widly, like a thousand beads flowing around my legs, and it taunts me.   
  
That is not me.   
  
That is only the person I want others to see.   
  
I want others to see a cold and calculating man. I want others to stare at me and shield away, because I am initimdating. I want others to fear me, respect me, but hate me at the same time.   
  
Because I hate them. I hate those sorcerors around me. I hate to talking to them. I hate dealing with them.   
  
Yet at the same time, I love them. They help me cling to this water that is my face. They help me hide behind this shield that is my only defense. They keep me alive. They make me *me.   
  
So I lie to them. I lie to everyone. Just as everyone lies to me.   
  
They tell me that they love me. They tell me that they respect me. They tell me that I am loyal to their cause, and they honor me.   
  
That makes me want to laugh.   
  
Since when did they love anyone but themselves?   
  
Since when did they respect anyone but the wealthy?   
  
Since when were they truly loyal?   
  
I hate them. I hate their lies, just as I hate my own. But I need them. I need those socorers for power and control. I need them to survive, just as they need me.   
  
So we are like this water that lives off the earth, its mother. We are like that shimmering fluid that runs through those canyons and gnaws at those rocks.   
  
But we are worse. We weave ourselves nets to tangle our limps in the false belief that they are shields. But once we don that armor, we can never remove them again. We lie to each other. We feed off of each other. We are parasites.   
  
No... we are not water. We do not have that pure and simple spirit.   
  
Because the water feeds from the dead.   
  
And people feed from the living.   
  
  
End  
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ummm.... -.-;; some really awkward sentences... couldn't decide what to sacrifice, grammar or parallel structure.. always comes down to grammar... -.-;;   
  
ummm.. this is really like Fingers to See.... but this one is really... urggg.... I think I'm beating this subject to death... I tried to take a different view on it, I'm not sure how it turned out. urggg.. actually.. this is really bad.... urggggggg... the first draft was worse, but I kinda went back and tried to salvage it. It still turned out kinda... *sigh... 


End file.
